


A Couple Bottles of Doctor Good

by emperors_girl



Series: The Choices That You Make [2]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Charles You Slut, Color Blindness, Foster Care, M/M, Mpreg, Possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2018-11-16 13:33:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11253981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emperors_girl/pseuds/emperors_girl
Summary: "Sundays too my father got up early..." - Robert HaydenCharles and Erik have a lot more going on behind the scenes than any of their children realize.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I promised some Erik or Charles POV shorts, so I thought I would do a few drabbles here and there. One will probably end up being the promised sex vacation.
> 
> Definite **spoilers** for everything that's been posted so far in the main story!
> 
> This takes place just before the story starts. It's, um, not exactly a happy drabble... sorry.

Erik gets the call about the child on a Friday afternoon just after he’s put David down for a nap. His phone is on vibrate – he’s not a fool – but it’s still fairly loud, so he shuts the door quietly behind him and goes downstairs before it wakes the baby.

When Erik answers, Charles says at once, “Are you dead set on only having four children, or is there room for another?”

Erik grips the phone tight in his hand and says, “You’re not about to tell me you’re having twins.”

He doesn’t make it a question.

Charles laughs, and Erik breathes a sigh of relief. He’s not opposed to twins in theory, but he’d at least like to have his doctorate finished first.

“No, nothing like that,” Charles says. “Though they are doing very fascinating studies right now in Scandinavia regarding select single nucleotide polymorphisms and their relevance to the conception of fraternal-”

“Charles,” Erik cuts in. He doesn’t have time for this. “Save it for class. If we’re not discussing twins, then why are we getting another child?”

Charles says, “Moira called.”

He doesn’t continue after that, giving Erik a moment to calm down from the instant surge of rage this news causes. His immediate reaction is to envision Moira’s painful death. That conniving homewrecker is going to get what’s coming to her. Erik is not going to let her waltz in here and destroy his family. He’s going to destroy _her_ first.

There’s a metal vase on the shelf at the far wall. Erik glares at it and it starts to quake. He clenches his fist and it compresses into a dagger of solid steel. Very pleased with himself, Erik calls it to his hand. The point is extremely sharp. Erik allows himself to think of all the social workers he could maim with this weapon. He’s never killed anyone in his life, but there’s a first time for everything.

But then… it would be a very brief satisfaction. There’s no joy in causing pain, Erik knows that well enough. There are other, more pleasurable ways for Erik to work out his rage. He takes a calming breath and allows the metal to become a much more enticing shape.

He says, “I’m going to fuck you tonight.”

Charles says, “That sounds agreeable.”

All at once, Erik feels absurdly better about the whole thing. Charles is still his, of course. He always was.

Erik looks at the shiny new metal plug in his hand and says, “Tell me about the child.”

Charles does. The child is a boy mutant. Sixteen years old, and a criminal record already. That sounds very familiar. He’s gone through seven placement in five years.

“Seven,” Erik repeats, impressed. His own placement count hadn’t been that high, probably because he spent so many years in the group home.

“Yes,” Charles agrees. “Quite obviously he needs stability.”

“And kindness,” Erik says.

Erik’s never been much good at it, but he knows it’s important, and gott how he strives for it.

Charles says, “Yes, of course, love.”

There’s a beat of silence, then Charles says, “We’re agreed to take him, yes?”

They don't have much information about the boy (they never do), and it’s not like they’re not busy as it is. But still…

“We can hardly leave a mutant child in the incompetent hands of the human social services. When can I expect them?”

“Within the hour,” Charles says, and there’s apology in his voice.

An hour isn't much time to prepare. Erik will need to speak to the children immediately, and then get the spare room ready. Then he’ll have to face the woman who tried to kiss his husband and pretend he doesn’t want to see her dead.

Charles says, “Erik, you know I’ve only ever loved you.”

Erik says, “Yes,” because he does, and because he doesn’t want Charles to feel guilty over something he’s never done wrong. He’s not to blame for what Moira did when she was drunk.

If Erik had his way, he would never see Moira again. But there are the children to think about. There’s no denying she’s good at what she does, and if she thinks this new mutant child is best suited for Erik and Charles, Erik believes that.

He says, “I have to go. I love you.”

Charles says, “I’ll be home by six. Let’s do chicken, yes? And put whatever new toy you’ve made through the wash. I’m not having it in me when it’s spent its past life as a knickknack.”

Erik grins, and hangs up the phone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another distressing drabble... maybe the next one will be funny or fluffy.
> 
> This probably takes place toward the end of the main story

Charles wakes up and rolls onto his back, letting the fear and despair of the dream wash away from him.

Erik says, “What’s wrong?”

Charles opens one eye and looks over at him. Erik’s already awake, of course, and was apparently watching Charles sleep – not that surprising an occurrence considering Erik is a professional-grade creeper. This is definitely not the first morning Charles has woken up to find Erik staring at him. The first time it had happened – god, ten years ago now, and my how they’re getting old – it had been slightly alarming, but by now it’s just a comfort.

“Nothing,” Charles says. “Just a nightmare.”

Erik says nothing. He’s had his fair share of nightmares; Charles has felt them more often than not.

“I dreamed Sean's mother came to take him away from us,” Charles explains.

“She’s in prison,” Erik says at once. “She can’t do anything from there.”

“She won’t be in prison forever,” Charles reminds him.

Erik frowns and says, “So what do you want to do? We can’t adopt him if she still has parental rights. And she won’t give those up for free.”

Charles scoffs and says, “If she really wanted him, she wouldn’t have gotten herself arrested in the first place. He’s ours, Erik! He belongs with us!”

Erik’s fingers curl around Charles’s wrist, gentle but firm.

He says, “Don't think I don't know that. I meant, it’s not easy to start again after you’ve been in prison. We could offer her an incentive.”

Charles blinks and says, “You want to _pay her off_?”

He’s half-shocked but he probably shouldn’t be. It’s the logical answer. Trust Erik to find the most efficient solution and damn the ramifications.

“It would have to be discreet,” Erik says, thinking out loud.

“Erik,” Charles says, and he rolls onto his side so they’re eye to eye. “Love, we can’t pay off Sean’s mother to give up her rights.”

Erik frowns some more and says, “The court would never find out.”

“Erik, you know what she would do with that money!”

“She’s clean,” Erik says.

“For now,” Charles says. “How long do you expect that to last once she gets out?”

 _What does it matter_ , Erik thinks, but it's a private thought; he’s not deliberately projecting. He says, “All the more reason for him to stay with us.”

 _Erik_ , Charles thinks wretchedly, and bites his lip. 

“It’s not right,” he manages.

“He’s safe here,” Erik says, voice flat. “He’s happy. If he goes back with her, he won’t be.”

If he goes back with her – and he will unless they do this terrible thing – it will be the same way it was before. Sean’s mother has never stayed clean for more than a few months at a time, and she’s no kind of mother at all when she’s using.

They can’t let him go back to that life.

Charles says in a small voice, “How much, do you think?”

“Fifty thousand,” Erik says at once.

“That’s a lot of money to give an addict,” Charles says. “I would feel better about it if we paid her rent, her groceries instead.”

“She wouldn’t agree for that,” Erik says, and Charles knows he’s right.

Charles sighs, really thinks about it. Can they really do this? Can he really allow this to happen? Can he damn a woman to her own terrible choices to save her son? Or is this all a selfish impulse to keep their family together?

Does the reason behind this choice matter, really, if the alternative is that they end up losing one of their children?

He says, “Make the offer on Sean’s next visit. The sooner we get the paperwork started, the better. With any luck we can get it sorted out before her sentence is over.”

“I will,” Erik agrees.

And in the meantime, Charles will contact Moira about getting adoption for the other two started. Ororo’s grandmother won’t have any objections, and Alex has no one to object. If only it were that easy for poor Sean.

Erik brings his free hand up to curl around Charles’s neck, his thumb resting just under Charles’s ear.

 _This is the right thing_ , he thinks, deliberately at Charles this time.

Charles still isn’t so sure, but… sometimes there is no right option. Sometimes you have to choose the least terrible one.

“I love you,” Charles says out loud. For being the strong one here, and for everything else.

Erik smiles and says, “Yes, I know.”

They’ll have to get up soon – the children’s thoughts are becoming more wakeful down the hall – but they have a few minutes yet.

 _Kiss me_ , he thinks, and Erik does.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someday someone in my family is going to notice that the only film I ever watch is XMFC, over and over again. But how else am I supposed to recall the exact phrasing Charles uses when he pulls Erik from the water?

Erik doesn’t remember the first time he realized his colors weren’t the same as everyone else’s, but he does remember the first time someone told him he belonged in special ed because of it. He’d been seven and not an orphan yet. They’d been drawing at school and Erik hadn’t been paying attention to the labels on the crayons. For the sky he’d picked blue – what he thought was blue – but the teacher had taken one look at the picture and called him an idiot. Erik hadn’t been able to bear shame, even then, and he’d lashed out. It had ended, predictably, with Erik in trouble again. His mother had asked, of course, but he hadn’t been able to tell her. He knew she would love him even once she knew he was stupid, but that didn’t mean he wanted to her see his failing.

That had been the first time, but it hadn’t been the last. After his parents died, he shuffled from family to family, no one able to stand against his anger for long. Some of the fosters were probably objectively nice people but Erik was never fully in control of his powers and as he raged, so did they. Even the most understanding of foster families weren’t able to take the strain of it for long. And that, more or less, was how Erik landed in the group home. 

It was in the group home where the colors came up again, in an state-mandated art therapy class. Erik and thirty other damaged children were supposed to be painting out their issues and thereby becoming more productive citizens. Erik approved of productivity on principle, but he didn’t think art was the way to achieve it. But there he was – paintbrush in hand, thinking about ways to paint their art teacher’s demise without getting himself sent to detention – when someone asked him to pass the green paint. Erik did, by hand even though the container was metal. He got caught up thinking about all the things he could do with that metal. That was why he didn’t read the label, and that was why he ended up handing over a can of red paint instead of green. One thing led to another, and that was how Erik ended up getting sent to detention anyway – for holding the boy who’d laughed at him down and smearing his face into the paint-soaked linoleum while the empty metal paint can molded itself into something sharp above them. It took three adults to put him into a hold that time, but Erik hadn’t minded because no one was laughing after that.

XXXXX

Six months later, Erik was seventeen-almost-eighteen, and even though no one laughed to his face about his stupid defective colors, Erik could tell they were thinking it from the look in their eyes. He damned them all to hell, but he knew he was superior to them. Erik was no mere human; though his DNA was not without flaw, it did grant him power those wretched homo sapiens would never know. Erik was going to wait out the rest of his imprisonment in that human hellhole, then make his escape to join the Brotherhood of Mutants the moment he turned eighteen.

That was the plan, anyway. Then one day Erik was in the park on a group day trip as a reward for not bashing anyone’s head in lately. He was reading on a bench apart from the others, and he liked it that way. Then a young man sat down next to him, gestured to the book and said, “Doctor Schmidt’s work is highly overdramatic, wouldn’t you agree?”

Erik looked at him and was promptly stunned by his beauty for several long moments, throughout which the boy just smiled at him pleasantly. At last Erik recovered himself enough to say, “Is it dramatic to speak the truth?”

The boy laughed – not meanly in the way Erik was used to, but cheerfully, like he was amused by their fledgling conversation.

“Certainly it isn’t,” he said. “But while I agree there are definitely abuses in the system, I’m not sure world domination would curtail those; it would simply reverse the polarity of the power-structure. Is it better to have humans oppressed by mutants than the other way around?”

Erik nearly shuddered at the way that pretty mouth said the word _polarity_ , but he caught himself just in time. He said, “Better us than them. We are not the killers here.”

Then, as his reason caught up with him, he asked, “You read German?” Because of course, the book in his hands wasn’t in English. His keepers wouldn’t have let him keep it if they knew what it was about.

“Yes,” the boy says, “But no, that’s not how I knew. You have your tricks and I have mine, Erik Lehnsherr.”

That was probably the moment Erik fell in lust. Erik had never met someone he wanted so much instantly. But even apart from that, the more they spoke, the more Erik could feel himself falling under Charles’s spell in every way. As they met again and talked over the next weeks and then months, Erik’s crush grew, and he began to find his outlook subtly changed. He put away Herr Doktor Schmidt’s book, and with it went his childish notions of revenge against the humans who had mistreated him. Not that he forgave them by any means, but he realized quickly that the more time he spent planning his revenge, the less time he could spend with Charles.

Charles was like sunshine in Erik’s dull dreary world. Being around him was like swallowing the sun, and Erik didn’t mind the ensuing sunburn. He spent the months after that first meeting on his best behavior because that was the only way to earn visitor passes and he desperately wanted Charles to come see him on the weekends. When the stupid humans grated on his nerves, Erik distracted himself by writing mental letters for Charles to read from him later. Charles did his part, too, working to amplify his power until at long last they were able to converse from their beds half a city apart.

The day Erik turned eighteen and was his own master, he left his prison for the last time. Charles, who knew him so well by then, was waiting for him outside. He said, “I have a spare room, but I’d rather you slept in mine.”

Of course they fell into bed together at once, and it was the best thing Erik had ever done in his life. He was shy at first but pretending not to be, and Charles was beautiful and confident. When he got Charles on his back and stretched out over him, he thought with clarity, _Your eyes are blue, and I love you._

XXXXX

It was Charles’s idea for Erik to get his diploma and actually apply to schools. Erik didn’t really see the point, but Charles insisted. Erik was always powerless to stand against that sort of attack. But actually, he found out quickly that, when he was the one in charge of his own education, it was startlingly easy to give a damn about it. More than that – he was damn good at learning. It was like a revelation the day he got his first calculus test back with a perfect score.

“I don’t know why you were so worried,” Charles said, but that was to be expected, because Erik had never told Charles the truth about himself and the colors. Charles didn’t know Erik was actually hopelessly dumb when it came to something as basic as the color wheel. 

Charles still didn’t know, and if Erik had his way, he would _never_ know. Erik did his best to pretend he was normal. He picked dark clothes only so he wouldn’t ever clash. He carefully inspected the color label on every can of paint or marker he had the misfortune to handle. He studiously avoided anything to do with gay pride because of the rainbow symbol. And Charles, it seemed, was fooled for a time.

They fought and they fucked and they fell in love all the more over the next year. Then Charles proposed in a fit of pique and somehow Erik found himself nineteen and married to a man he couldn’t ever live without. And it turned out that marriage was terrible because it meant he wasn’t alone, but it was a astonishingly wonderful for the same reason. 

Somehow, Erik found he was more content and calm than he’d ever been in his life.

But still he said nothing about his shameful defect.

XXXXX

It all came to a head over a banana, funnily enough.

Erik was on his way out the door for groceries, when Charles – knee deep in his dissertation and as irritable as that implied - said, “Pick up bananas, yes?”

Erik suppressed a moment of panic, remembering the last time he’d brought home bananas – they’d needed to be put into a paper bag to ripen because apparently they were green and impossible to eat. Charles had said nothing about it, but if it happened again, he was definitely going to have questions.

Charles sighed suddenly and said, “On second thought, I’ll just tag along.”

Erik immediately stiffened. He didn’t need Charles coming along to supervise. He was perfectly capable of feeding his family without hand-holding. Just because his stupid defective eyes failed him once didn’t mean it was going to happen again. And if Charles went, he would _see_ and he would _know_. 

“For God’s sake, Erik!” Charles burst out suddenly, running a hand through his already wrecked hair. “Just stop, alright? Do you really think after all this time that I don’t know? Do you think I could have been everywhere in your mind and somehow not know such a basic fact about you? Do you think I’d be surprised, even if I couldn’t read you? Your coat is red and your scarf is purple, Erik! Play it off like a style choice all you want, but those are _not_ matching colors!”

Erik swallowed hard and had to sit, because his legs didn’t seem to want to hold him up any longer.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he managed to grit out, but of course only a fool lies to a telepath.

Charles seemed to deflate. He sighed again and came to sit next to Erik.

“Erik,” he said, much more gently than before. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“I’m not _embarrassed_ ,” Erik said viciously, but there was nothing he could do about the stupid flush on his face – the one he probably couldn’t see even with a mirror. “I just… didn’t know you knew.”

“I’ve always known,” Charles said, voice still soft and soothing. “But Erik, you know this doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t…,” he hesitated briefly, then finished, “make you unintelligent.”

From in the kitchen, there was the sudden clatter of a drawer full of silverware impacting with the wall at high velocity. Charles winced but said nothing, giving Erik a minute to collect himself. Actually, Erik needed quite a bit longer than a minute, but after two or three minutes had passed in silence, he finally had enough of himself collected to not fly off the handle.

He said, “Fuck the bananas.” They were the cause of this whole stupid mess. Or, even if they weren’t, he was going to blame them.

Charles said, “I can spare…” he looked at his watch, “thirty-seven minutes before I need to get back to my dissertation. Not long enough for a grocery trip, but we can use our time wisely. Do you want to come upstairs and work off some of your embarrassment with your cock in my bum?”

It didn’t make anything better (everything Erik knew was a lie and the kitchen was probably going to need some serious damage control) but of course Erik wasn’t going to turn down that offer.

XXXXX

That wasn’t the end of it, of course. Just a few short years later – through a whirlwind of increasingly implausible events – they ended up fostering a little girl. It wasn’t the easiest choice for maintaining their relationship, but it made them stronger in the end, and without Ororo, Erik would never have realized he was capable of loving people other than Charles. He’d always thought Charles was the exception, but Ororo took that assumption and tore it apart piece by painful piece. It was also through Ororo-related stress that Charles’s body took it upon itself to manifest a rare (and guiltily pleasing) secondary mutation.

And that’s how they ended up with David, and by extension, Sean, Alex, and Scott. And it’s not like Erik doesn’t know the kids laugh about his rare color mix-ups, but somewhere along the way – probably not too long after Charles explained why David’s sight would be completely blissfully normal – Erik stopped letting the whole thing get him so worked up. He still minds it, but parenting plus teaching plus his dissertation means he just doesn’t have the time he used to for worrying about things like that.

The glasses make it easier, too (excepting in cases when they’re been stolen). Erik doesn’t think he’s ever appreciated a Christmas gift so much. He might not approve of Christmas in the abstract, but he does approve of useful gifts, and the glasses are ones for the books. The dirty terrible things he did to Charles to show his gratitude (after he’d spent hours and hours just _looking_ at everything with a new eye) made it a very pleasurable Christmas for the both of them. 

Then came Spring and flowers and blue skies, and it had all been so amazingly beautiful and new that Erik had needed to show his gratitude all over again. Multiple times. From every angle. 

And that’s the story of how Erik’s color-blindness is directly responsible for Lorna’s birth.

(And if he thinks she’s blond for the first six hours of her life until he puts his glasses back on, no one can really blame him for that).


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An alternate look at how it happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More angst. Maybe I'll do their wedding after this to make up for it.

He hadn’t known Moira was going to do it, and that was the worst part. Oh, he knew she finds him attractive. Hell, he finds her attractive. But that’s all it ever was on his part – a low-level awareness that she’s a finely built woman. He’s really more gay than bisexual, anyway, but more importantly, he’s married and in love. So he’s always noticed that Moira fancies him a bit, and he fancied her right back in the same way he fancies all the attractive, competent men and women he interacts with every day.

So that’s why he hadn’t realized it was something more for her. Or at least, he hadn’t realized that being drunk would make her act on it.

It started innocently enough. She called him up to talk about Ororo’s grandmother and her request that Ororo come visit for her birthday. It was more or less just a reiteration of a previous conversation wherein Moira laid out exactly what the state allowed or didn’t allow in this situation. Charles nodded along, half-listening while grading papers. 

Then Moira had ended the conversation with, “God, it’s been a long day. You wanna get drinks?”

Charles thought, _Oh drinks would be lovely_. He didn’t get many opportunities to just be an adult these days without also having to be a parent. He loved his children, really, but sometimes even he needed a break. So he called Erik and asked him if he wouldn’t mind being alone tonight with the children for just a few hours, and Charles would make it up to him when he came home pleasantly tipsy and most probably gagging for a shag.

He met Moira at a bar far enough away from the university that it wasn’t likely he’d run into any of his students. She was already there when he got in and she had four shots lined up in front of her.

“Oh, God,” Charles said. “What is this, a frat party? I can’t do shots!”

Moira said, “Oh, these are all for me. This is yours,” and she pushed a cocktail in his direction.

It ended up being a Manhattan – pleasant enough – and after that he ordered himself a beer to drink slowly, because he really did have to go home after all this and probably tuck his children into bed. Moira, though, was pleasantly single and without children, which meant she was free to follow her shots up with two or three whiskey sours that were heavy on the whiskey and light on the sours.

The conversation inevitably turned to what had been so stressful about her day. Nothing out of the ordinary, she told him, swaying close and having to steady herself with a hand on his shoulder. One of her kids was in trouble again, this time for criminal mischief, and she was worried about finding him another placement. He would have to go back to the group home if she couldn’t do it, and because of his now criminal record, it would have to be a more secure facility than the last group home he was in.  
Charles didn’t have much personal experience with group homes – just his visits to Erik at one when they were teenagers and still falling in love – but he’s seen the jagged edges of Erik’s thoughts when he remembers being there. They weren’t unkind, exactly, but it was more like a prison than a home in every way that mattered. Charles wouldn’t have any child subjected to that if he could help it.

“If there’s anything I can do,” he told her earnestly, “just let me know. Anything at all.”

Moira smiled and her eyes were slightly unfocused. She said, “God, you’re such a sweetheart.”

And that’s when she kissed him.

It wasn’t much of a kiss, but that wasn’t from lack of trying on her part. But Charles yanked himself back quickly, very nearly overbalancing right off the stool. But he managed to steady himself against the bar, and then get hold of Moira’s shoulders to push her back and hold her at arm’s length.

He took a moment to calm his breathing and make sure no one was going to fall. Then he said, “What the hell was that?”

Moira, more drunk than he’d realized, promptly burst into tears.

“I’m sorry,” she managed to say, and her mind told him the rest. She’d always liked him and in that moment, it had just seemed right.

“Oh God,” he breathed, then waved the bartender down to pay their bill. He managed to get Moira off her stool and out the door with only a little bit of trouble – and a few stares – then he called her a cab.

He said, “You’re going to be very embarrassed about this in the morning.” And he knew she would, because tough-as-nails Moira didn’t just cry because someone had rejected her.

Then he added, “Moira, listen to me. You’re a wonderful girl, and maybe in a different life, we might have had something. But, I’m married. And he’s… the only thing that matters, really. The only thing that _ever_ matters.”

Then he gave her a hug and got her into the cab, and tipped the driver to make sure she got inside. He kept mental tabs on her the whole way home.

Everyone was already in bed when Charles got in, so he brushed his teeth and washed his face and then climbed into bed next to Erik, who wasn’t asleep yet but up reading.

He said, “How was it?” in a tone of voice that meant he wasn’t really paying attention.

Charles said, “Erik, I have to tell you something,” and something about the way he said it made Erik look over at him sharply.

“I…” Charles started. “I, er. I had something happen tonight. With Moira. Moira, er, she did something.”

He could feel Erik getting worked up, though his face was calm and impassive.

Then Charles decided he wasn’t going to be able to say it, so he took hold of Erik’s hand and replayed him the memory. He could feel Erik’s anxiety as Moira leaned close, his devastation when their lips touched, his anger – always, always on the heels of his pain. Erik tried to jerk away after the kiss, but Charles kept his hold and made Erik watch until the very end, until he’d put Moira in the cab, and he thought he sensed a slight breath of relief after that.

Erik said, “You didn’t-”

And Charles immediately said, “No, of course not! I… Erik, I love you. You know that. I didn’t know she was going to do that, but I didn’t want it.”

“You’re mine,” Erik said, voice harsh and hoarse. “Just mine.”

“Always,” Charles said at once. “I swear it.”

And suddenly he knew what Erik needed, what they both needed.

He said, “The children are asleep, Erik. There’s no one here but you and me.”

And then, “Get the handcuffs.”

The rough dirty sex they have after that helps, but Erik never really does get over it. He doesn't doubt Charles's fidelity or the strength of their relationship, but his hatred for Moira becomes palpable. And it's not like they can just never see Moira again - they need her on their side for the well-being of their children. So Erik tolerates her, but Charles catches him sometimes with his mind wandering and it's frequently playing out a revenge fantasy against the poor girl.

Moira certainly felt bad enough about the whole thing. She'd called him to apologize the next day, and that had been enough for Charles. Erik, though, has always been harder to please. His grudge is understandable, however tiring it might be, and as long as he never acts on it with malice or in any way that would harm anyone, Charles doesn't find it a problem.

Of course, Erik's still free to act on it in other ways, and that's what he did about a month after the kiss. He got up one morning very clearly on a mission, and when Charles found him later in the office, he was staring at a calendar and doing mental arithmetic. Then he'd looked up at Charles with calculating eyes and said, "Let's send the children to Raven's for a sleepover next Thursday."

And Charles had obviously asked why Thursday, but Erik was keeping his secrets, and Charles had no particular objection against getting laid on Thursday. So they both took a day off on Thursday and had a lovely brunch, then a quaint little picnic in the park, where Erik mentally raved about the spring flowers and the blue of the sky. Then they went home and fucked all night like teenagers, and lo and behold, two months later the morning sickness hit.

And that, more or less, is the story of how an ill-advised kiss was directly responsible for Lorna's birth.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone mentioned in the comments that it was kind of uncomfortable (read: rapey) what Erik did in the last chapter, so I figured I’d better set the scene a little better. The first part of this takes place a few months before the kiss.

David takes his first steps. That’s how it starts. He’s been using the couch and coffee table as support while standing for weeks, and it’s not like he’s been stationary that whole time. But these are his first unassisted steps, and it’s all because he wants the cheese cubes Erik’s cutting up in the kitchen.

Erik doesn’t even really notice at first until Charles says, “Oh my God! Erik!” and he grabs his phone to record it.

Erik whips around because that tone of voice either means something very good or very bad. And that’s when he sees the baby take his second toddling step. He’s not going to make it a third, if the way he’s wobbling is any indicator, but his little eyes are fixed on the cheese in Erik’s hand, so Erik bends down and says, “Is this what you want, little one?”  
He holds it out. David reaches a hand for it – still too far away to grab – and takes another step. That’s his last, though, and not long after that, he overbalances and falls on his behind.

Erik holds his breath, hoping David’s not about to cry from the fall, but Charles masterminds the situation. He says calmly, “Oh dear, looks like you’ve taken a fall, David. Why don’t you get back up?”

David doesn’t move, just looks up with wide eyes at the cheese Erik’s still holding.

Erik decides the kid’s earned it. He scoops David up in one arm, gives him the cheese and says, “Well done. Gut gemacht.” And he knows David must feel his heart-stopping elation at the whole display.

Charles calls the children up from the playroom to hear the good news. He shows them the video, and they spend the rest of the time before supper with more cubes of cheese, trying to get David to repeat the trick. It doesn’t really work, because David’s clever enough to know that crawling at this point will get him near the cheese in a more timely manner. But it won’t be long now.

XXXXX 

That night in bed, Charles seems a bit melancholy. Erik gives him a sleepy pat on the bum and then feels sort of weird about it – it’s not like he’s never slapped that fine ass before, but he’d meant it this time to be comforting, and that’s more the sort of thing you do to babies, not your spouse.

Charles laughs at his obvious anxiety. He says, “I’m not offended, love; it’s alright.”

But then his eyes trail back over to the corner where David’s crib used to be before they’d moved him to the nursery.

It’s not like Erik doesn’t know why he’s brooding.

“He’s hardly a baby anymore,” he says.

Charles says, “I thought I was supposed to be the telepath.”

Erik yawns and says, “I’ve picked up a few tricks.”

“I didn’t mean to keep you up,” Charles says quickly. “You needn’t lie awake with me.”

Erik ignores this. He says, “Let’s have another.”

Charles stares at the empty corner of the room for a long, long moment. Then he says, “Yes. Okay.”

Erik obligingly starts to run a hand down Charles’s stomach, but Charles bats him away gently.

“It doesn’t have to be right this second. In fact, why don’t we just keep doing what we’re doing but knock off with the condoms. We’ll give it a few months, see if it happens on its own like with David, and if not, we’ll try to track ovulation.”

Erik says, “Fine, fine.” He yawns again. He probably would have fallen asleep mid-coitus if they’d tried it right now, anyway.

So that’s what they do, at first. Charles starts taking his pre-natals again and they stop buying condoms. They have sex a few times a week every week for the next month, and sometimes they play little games during, and other times a nighttime snog turns into something more intense. And both of those are fine with Erik. He’s in no hurry, even if David is growing at an alarming rate.

Then that homewrecker Moira makes her true colors known, and the plans get a little derailed. Erik will admit, his focus shifts for a time, and he becomes more preoccupied with making it known to everyone involved that Charles is _his_. He starts scheming, and it’s something of a joy, because he hasn’t gotten to scheme like this for years – not since the days when he, Charles and Raven were living in a one bedroom apartment and choosing between food or rent. That hadn’t been the good kind of scheming, but this… this is a pleasure.

He starts by making Charles wear Erik’s favorite purple scarf to work. Which Charles is only too happy to do, because Erik also starts leaving his mark in the form of love bites. But it’s not enough, any of it; love bites fade and as the weather gets warmer, scarves become less necessary. What Erik needs is a bigger, more permanent way to show everyone who Charles belongs to.

And that’s when he remembers that they’re still trying for another baby.

It’s probably not strictly within the letter of their agreement that Erik tries to calculate ovulation on his own as a revenge scheme, but he comforts himself with the knowledge that he’s been very obvious so far and Charles has let him get away with it. And anyway, it’s not like that’s the only reason he wants another kid. He’s just… moving the timeframe up by about a month or so.

It’s… not easy, trying to calculate a fertile period for someone who doesn’t menstruate (or at least… doesn’t menstruate outwardly, and Erik doesn’t even really understand how that works). But he does his research. He counts back the days from when David was born to when he must have been conceived, and he thinks he might have the right day of the month.

So they have a date, and it’s nice. Erik mostly forgets that he’s orchestrating a seduction for a reason until they’re in bed that night, and then he can’t stop thinking about it. He’s got Charles on his back and his hands tied to the headboard again, and Charles is arching under him. And Erik bites at his collarbone and thinks about having his mark on Charles and _in_ him, and that she-devil Moira will finally know her place. She could never love Charles like Erik does. She couldn’t give him the kind of fucking he needs, and she couldn’t give him the superior child Erik will. And this child they’re making is definitely going to be superior, and Erik is going to love it so damn much.

Charles chokes, arches up, and says, “Erik, are you trying to impregnate me?”

Erik bites him again. He says, “Would you let me?”

And Charles says, “Yes, yes, of course, anything, just kiss me.”

And Erik does.

Afterward, as he’s massaging Charles’s wrists, Charles says, “You know, I would have peed on a stick if I knew you were hellbent on doing this now. Might have made the calculations easier.”

Erik hadn’t thought of that, and feels slightly embarrassed about it. “There are some things a man has to do alone,” he says.

Charles raises one of his painfully upper-class eyebrows. He says, “Erik, I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this but-”

“If you’re going to tell me it takes two to tango-” Erik starts, but Charles cuts back in, saying, “No, no. I was going to bring up parthenogenesis. It’s asexual reproduction. Lots of insects and plants and things do it that way. It’s-”

He keeps talking, but Erik gets distracted thinking about the flowers from the picnic earlier. Then he gets distracted by Charles’s naked skin all laid out there for him to touch. Then Charles gets distracted by Erik’s distraction.

_Gott, I love you_ , Erik thinks, and then, _Thank you_ , for the baby and the glasses and everything else.

Then they get back to the fucking.

And so they make a baby. For lots of reasons, but mostly just because they want to. And that’s reason enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you go. Erik’s still ridiculous and, okay, a little bit creepy, but Charles was definitely in agreement with the new baby plan.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be about them getting married, but that’s not exactly what happened

Contrary to what everyone seems to think of him, there was a time when Charles Xavier was not a rich man. From the time he began his undergraduate education until his mother’s death three years later, he was as poor as a church mouse. His stepfather, who was nominally in charge of the family’s money after his father’s death, paid for his tuition and an apartment and nothing more. 

Granted, that was more than most people ever got for free, but for Charles, it had certainly been a reality check. He’d been sixteen and alone in the city and that had been bad enough, but he’d been able to scrape by with a part-time job to pay for food and schoolbooks. He’d been rather resentful of that, actually, thinking his time was worth much more studying than it was working as a busboy at a hipster café or walking dogs in the park. He might have ended up doing something drastic if it weren’t for Raven.

Poor, poor Raven had been left behind when Charles went off to college. It hadn’t been the ideal choice for anyone, but the truant officer – and by extension Child Protective Services – had been watching. So she’d stayed in Westchester… for a time. Eventually, though, she couldn’t stand her foster parents anymore, so she packed a bag and hitchhiked to the city. She was waiting on the front stoop to Charles’s apartment building when he came back from class.

He said, “This is going to cause so much trouble,” but he let her in anyway.

Actually, it wasn’t that difficult to get her transferred to a school in his district. He had to use a little bit of telepathic convincing, but it was for the best, and he’d had less scruples in those years. But unfortunately, Charles’s stepfather still refused to increase the amount he was spending on Charles, even though Charles was now the one responsible for feeding his little sister. If she wanted to eat, Kurt said, she would come back to Westchester. Raven said she would rather starve. 

That was very nearly what they did that first year. Raven was only fourteen and even if she could look like she was old enough to work, they didn’t have the capability to forge the documents to support any such fake identity. She might have been able to get something under the table, but Charles didn’t believe in child labor. He wanted her to be just a kid for a while longer. 

So instead he worked longer hours and they bought cheaper food. They ate nothing but cup noodles and peanut butter sandwiches for months until Charles couldn’t stand the smell of either anymore. Then they switched to eggs: boiled eggs, fried eggs, scrambled eggs, eggs on toast. Then they got tired of eggs, and it was back to the drawing board.

For Christmas, they splurged: a rotisserie chicken, a bag of instant mashed potatoes that they mixed with water because milk was too expensive, and a boxed brownie mix that used the last of their eggs. For presents, Charles bought them a new pair of shoes each and a bag of Hershey kisses to split. It was probably the best Christmas he’d ever had since his father died.

After the holidays came the start of next term. It was good he’d had the holiday free of classes, because all those extra hours at the coffee shop meant he could afford his textbooks. But the food budget was still far below what it would be in an ideal world. Worse than that, he’d about exhausted his culinary expertise.

By then, though, he’d met Erik, and that changed everything.

Erik was… probably the most beautiful boy Charles had ever seen, and that had just as much to do with the shape of his thoughts as with the shape of his face. Charles first spotted him in the park when he was walking home after work. The good news was, he was alone, which made an approach easy. The bad news was, he was reading mutant supremacist lit.

Well, it was an icebreaker, anyway. They talked that day until Erik’s group was leaving, and most of it was friendly bickering about the book. By the end of the conversation, Charles was convinced that Erik Lehnsherr was lost and alone, but not a supremacist – not yet, and if Charles had his way, not ever. He grabbed Erik’s hand as he was turning to go and said, “Can I see you again?”

Erik hesitated, and Charles added quickly, “I can help you.” He knew it was the truth.

“I don’t need your help,” Erik said.

“Maybe not,” Charles agreed. “But you could do with a friend.”

Erik was silent for a long moment, then said, “Next Saturday there’s another day trip. To the library.”

“I’ll be there,” Charles promised, and then squeezed Erik’s hand.

Erik blushed, but said nothing more.

Thus began a tumultuous months-long courtship with a juvenile delinquent, one who was moody and withdrawn by turns, who needed more tenderness than he was probably willing to accept. Charles pushed it on him anyway.

They started out mostly talking about literature: what they’d read and what they hadn’t, and what they each thought the other desperately needed to read because otherwise they were a hopeless idiot. It wasn’t as safe a topic as it might have seemed – on their fifth meeting (back at the library), Erik ended up throwing a book right at Charles’s head and Charles had said the first terrible thing he could think of and stomped away.

He went back, though, fifteen minutes later, because he’d forgotten his book. Erik had still been sitting there, looking and feeling miserable, and Charles hadn’t been able to leave him like that a second time. So he’d sat back down and taken Erik’s hand in his own and said, “This doesn’t mean we’re breaking up.”

Erik blinked in surprise and thought clearly, _I didn’t know we were dating_. But what he said was, “You don’t really hope I step on a Lego, do you?”

Charles said, “Sometimes I do. But I think that’s normal.”

And so it went.

Eventually, Charles got it out of Erik that for good behavior, kids at the group home could earn visitor passes. Erik had never had the requisite behavior before (or indeed anyone who wanted to visit), but evidently something about Charles inspired him toward good behavior (or at least made be more sneaky with the bad behavior), so Charles started being able to visit for two-hour slots once a week. They had no privacy, but it felt like progress.

It was during one of these visits that Erik learned the circumstances of Charles’s home life. That is, he discovered that Charles was broke and supporting his little sister and also running out of cheap things that he knew how to cook.

Needless to say, Erik was not impressed by this. He thought _Good thing you’re cute_ , and said, “I’ll take care of this.”

The very next time they met, Erik gave Charles a stack of papers that looked like they’d been torn out of someone’s school notebook, and all of them had a different recipe painstakingly copied down. 

Charles paged through them, awed and touched and sort of hungry. A lot of it was things like beans and rice and pasta and chickpeas.

He said, “We can’t afford this stuff.”

“No, you can,” Erik said. “Look, I’ve written down the prices. It’s not more than you’re spending right now on food, it’s just more variety. But you should probably splurge on some oranges, too, or you’re going to get scurvy, Charles.”

Charles said, “I want to kiss you.”

They weren’t alone – they were never alone – but Erik grabbed his hand and yanked him quickly into a semi-hidden alcove, and pressed his lips firmly against Charles’s. He pulled away, blushing, a moment later, but he didn’t let go of Charles’s hand the entire rest of the visit.

Charles did end up using Erik’s recipes, and Raven was not displeased by the turn of events. Of course, it did necessitate Charles explaining where he’d gotten the recipes in the first place, and that meant explaining where he’d been spending so much time recently. The upshot was rather a lot of teasing on her part, but she was happy for him.

Then when Erik turned eighteen and left the group home, Charles of course offered him a place to stay.

“I have a guest room,” he said, though that wasn’t strictly true. He had a guest futon in the living room, and that was actually where Raven slept. But the sentiment was the same, and anyway, Erik ended up sleeping in Charles’s bed.

The sex that first night was… not great, looking back. But Erik was so goddamn shy and Charles was nervous. Because, he knew what to do and he’d certainly seen it enough in other people’s imaginations, but he’d never actually done anything like that before. He knew what he wanted, though, and there was no point in waiting.

He said, “You should fuck me,” with more confidence than he felt.

Erik was shocked but willing enough. He pushed Charles back onto the bed and crawled up over him, and he was gangly but lovely. He thought, _I love you_ , and Charles smiled, because he knew it was going to be fine.

It didn’t last long, of course, and they weren’t nearly as careful about it as they should have been. And at the time, it was the best sex either of them had ever had… which was not saying a lot, actually. But they held on to each other until they fell asleep, and they woke up again close enough to touch hands.

Erik cooked them breakfast before Charles had to go to class. It turned out surprisingly excellent for someone who’d never owned a kitchen before, but Erik just explained that he’d had cafeteria duty sometimes at the group home. And if Raven smirked at them from over her pancakes and replayed Charles some of the embarrassing sounds he’d made last night, who really cared about that, anyway?

It also turned out that Erik was the world’s best roommate. He was mostly quiet, didn’t take up much space, and was almost neurotically clean. He more than made up for Raven’s hoarding and Charles’s constant clutter. And he cooked! He also taught Raven and Charles to cook, because that was apparently a useful life skill that a sheltered upbringing prevented them from learning. Plus, once Erik started in college, too, his government scholarships gave them a bit of cushion in their budget.

Erik didn’t even mind that Charles liked to play musicals while he wrote essays for class. He would just roll his eyes and put on headphones. On the other hand, he never did warm up to A Fiddler on the Roof (“That’s so offensive,” he would mutter when If I Were A Rich Man came on).

The sex got better and the bickering got better and sometimes there were love confessions. Charles will never admit he proposed in order to win an argument, but that’s more or less what happened. It was probably the cheapest wedding imaginable under the circumstances, but it meant more than any of the high society ceremonies Charles had ever been to as a boy. Even Raven cried.

They lived that way together until Charles’s mother died and her money came to him. Suddenly he was rich again, and could buy them an apartment closer to the school – one with a real bedroom for Raven and windows that actually opened. He quit his job at the coffee shop and threw himself into his graduate studies. They ate take-out twice a week, and bought all the oranges Erik could ever want. No one got scurvy. 

He didn’t forget the last few years of his life or the way that Erik had saved them. He didn’t forget what it was like to be broke and in need of some serious help. That’s why, when they bought the house a few years later, he said, “We should probably adopt someday. Or foster.”

Erik thought about this for a while.

Then he said, “Sure. Someday.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway, here's ~~Wonderwall~~ more of them being poor and also silly about their feelings

After Erik turns eighteen and drops out of school to go play happy families with his boyfriend, he figures that’s it. He gets a job working in a supermarket, then after a few months trades that job in for one in a car garage. The garage is infinitely better than the market because of all the metal and because no one ever makes him go into a walk-in freezer.

Erik has a good head for mechanics, and while he knows he’s kind of an asshole, having Charles in his life makes him bearable to be around. The money’s not fantastic, but combined with what Charles brings in from his barista job, they have just enough to support themselves and Raven. The manager at the shop tells him he’s on the fast track, and that’s always nice. He likes to have a plan, so he figures he’ll stick around for a few years and see just how fast that fast track really is.

That’s the plan, anyway. Then one day Charles is late coming home from class and when he does finally get in, he has with him two things more than what he’d left with this morning. Erik senses the first thing immediately and sets down his pasta spoon to investigate.

Charles says, “Raven’s out?”

Erik nods. Raven had gone to a friend’s house for a sleepover and probably a clandestine beer or two.

“Good,” Charles says, and sets down his bag. “Because I’ve just saved the girl at the sex shop from her lecherous manager, and she’s rewarded me with a very special present. A very special _metal_ present. You wouldn’t happen to be interested in that sort of thing, would you?”

He looks up at Erik coyly, because he knows damn well Erik is into that sort of thing. Well, hypothetically. They’ve never done anything like that before, but in his imagination, Erik is _definitely_ into that sort of thing.

So they immediately have sex with Charles’s reward toy, and it’s amazing. Then again, sex is always amazing with Charles, even the times they’ve messed it up. As they say, sex is like pizza – even when it’s bad, it’s good. Erik doesn’t know if that’s true for everyone, but it is for them.

Afterward, they’re lying on the bed and Erik is lazily giving Charles a love bite while Charles is running a sticky hand up and down Erik’s side. But something starts niggling at Erik - an odd tingly sensation. He pulls his mouth away from Charles’s collarbone and extends his senses, trying figure out what’s wrong.

Charles says, “Why’d you stop?” but then he must feel Erik’s confusion, because he looks around, as well.

“I don’t feel anything,” he says. Then he sniffs the air, frowns, and says, “But is something burning?”

And that’s when Erik remembers about the pasta he was cooking when Charles first came home. 

“Get the fire extinguisher,” he says, and jumps out of bed to go sprinting into the kitchen.

Really, it’s a good thing Raven isn’t home, because she sometimes gives him these looks like she thinks he would be tasty; seeing his naked dash to save the burnt pot on the stove would have either traumatized her or given her ideas.

Erik skids to a stop on the tile flooring of the kitchen, and only just manages to keep his balance. The pot is burnt all to hell, and the noodles inside are a dead loss. It’s smoking and red hot, but there are no actual flames. Erik stands there looking at the whole mess of it for a long stupid moment before he remembers to turn off the stove.

Erik starts to feel a terrible sinking in the pit of his stomach. This was a stupid mistake, one he shouldn’t have made just because he was distracted by sex. He’s put Charles’s life in danger, and he’s cost them their only good pot. They don’t have the money to replace it, not if they want to send Raven on the class trip the museum next week. 

And they can’t back out on that, not because Erik’s an idiot who thinks with his dick.

He can feel himself starting to get angry, and the feeling is nothing new. He clenches his hands and remembers that this is how it always was before Charles. Erik is a mess and  
everyone knows it. He destroys everything he touches. He always has.

He startles as warm around wrap around him from behind. But he knows that grip and he leans back into Charles instinctively.

“It turns out,” Charles says amiably, “that we don’t actually own a fire extinguisher. Which can’t be a good thing. We’d better contact the landlord.”

Then he rubs his nose against the nape of Erik’s neck in an odd Eskimo kiss, making Erik shiver.

Charles says softly, “You can’t break everything, you know. You haven’t broken me, and you touch me all the time. I think your logic has a flaw.”

Erik swallows. His nails are digging into his palms. “I could have hurt you,” he says, and this is the first time, but experience has taught Erik that it won’t be the last.

“No,” Charles says at once. “You couldn’t have. You’re the one who caught it before it got out of hand. You’re the one who can fix it. You _can_ fix this, Erik.”

 _I don’t know how_ , Erik thinks, and he hates admitting it.

 _So figure it out_ , Charles answers him.

“You know what?” Charles says suddenly and steps back. “Let’s have angry sex, yes?”

Erik’s shoulders tense up because he doesn’t want to joke about this, of all things. 

“You’re not even angry,” he snaps, not looking at him. Only Erik is. As usual.

“I could be,” Charles says. “Let me work something up.”

There’s a scraping sound and Erik turns around to see Charles pushing himself up to sit on their wobbly kitchen table. His bare ass is right over the spot that Erik eats his breakfast. 

Charles says, “I’m angry about whiteboards.”

His voice is flat but somehow teasing. Erik is drawn into it in despite himself, just like always.

“Whiteboards?”

Charles nods. “Whiteboards. Every day when I go into the lab, there’s always something left on the whiteboard from the last person using it. Why can’t they use the eraser? It’s only common courtesy to clean up your mess when you’re finished. And the people that do manage to figure out how the eraser works always half-ass it so there are little speckles of marker all over the board anyway.”

Erik huffs out a laugh, a little unwillingly.

“That’s what you’re angry about?” he asks. “You’re not very good at this.”

“I could be,” Charles says thoughtfully. “I suppose anyone could be, given the right circumstances.”

“Don’t talk sociology to me,” Erik says indignantly.

Charles laughs. “It might have been psychology. It could have gone either way.”

Erik gives him a look.

Charles holds his hands up.

“Fine. Let’s just forget it. Angry sex was never going to work, anyway. I can’t stay angry with you all naked like that. Let’s just go back to bed and I’ll let you eat me out.”

Erik figures that’s better than pasta, anyway.

XXXXX

Later, though, Charles wants to talk about the other thing he’d brought home – the one Erik hadn’t sensed.

He says, “I was in the social work department just poking around on break earlier, and I saw something I thought might be helpful.”

He sounds as confident as ever, but there’s something about the jut of his chin that makes Erik think he might be nervous.

Then he hands over a brochure about getting a gott damn GED.

Erik frowns and flips through it, wondering why in hell he would ever want to do that.

He tosses it aside carelessly and says, “We can’t afford this.”

“It’s free,” Charles says. “That state pays for it. And probably for practice classes, too, but I doubt you’ll need those.”

“I would have to take time off from work,” Erik points out.

“Well,” Charles says, and shrugs. “Yes, probably. But wouldn’t it be worth it?”

“Worth what? What would I even do with it once I had it?”

Charles picks at a fraying string on their blanket.

“You could go to college,” he says too casually. 

Erik laughs. He’s just gotten done with school and now Charles wants him to go and do more of it?

“An honest working man not good enough for you now?” he jokes. 

Or at least, it’s probably a joke. He doesn’t think that could be true. Right? 

“Of course not!” Charles says, and he looks so hurt that it eases whatever worries Erik might have had. “I just want you to have the chance to do whatever you want with your life, Erik. I don’t want you to have to stay in a position you don’t like just because you don’t have any other choices. I don’t want you to regret anything.”

Erik says, “You don’t get to tell me what choices I’m going to regret. It’s _my_ life, Charles.”

“Yes,” Charles says. “And I’m in it.”

That makes Erik stop and really thinks about it. Erik doesn’t hate being a mechanic, but is a mechanic’s lover really the life he wants Charles to have? Charles is better than all this, better than scraping by and pinching pennies. He deserves to have lots of money, a nice house with a white picket fence, a trip abroad once a year just because. He deserves _everything_. 

And Erik… Erik can’t give him any of that.

Is Charles going to wake up one day with his fancy college degree and realize Erik has just been riding his coattails? Is he going to want a pretty house in a good neighborhood and have to pay for it by himself because Erik can’t afford his half? Is he going to understand at last that Erik isn’t worthy of him?

Charles takes a shuddering breath and grabs Erik’s hand hard enough to hurt.

“Stop it,” Charles demands, almost begs. “Of course I’m not! I would never ever think that your job is beneath me, Erik. You have skills I never will, and I love you!. I just… I wanted you to know the option was there, if you want to take it.”

Erik looks at his hand in Charles’s. He squeezes it and Charles squeezes back.

He says in a small voice, “I don’t know what I’d be good at.”

Charles laughs weakly.

“Oh my darling,” he says. “That’s what gen-eds are for.”

Erik doesn’t know anything about that, but … Charles loves him, and he hasn’t led Erik astray yet.

 _You’re always showing me the path_ , Erik thinks. _But what do you get out of this?_

“Don’t you know?” Charles asks. 

Erik shakes his head.

Charles says, “You make me happy.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A vignette, because it was (sort of) requested.

Erik does eventually replace the pot using metal from the shop. He comes home a few days after the incident with a brand new, perfectly formed pot, and he gives Raven the task of cleaning it. Charles can tell this is partly because it’s good for her to have normal teenager chores, but mostly because Erik wants to stand back and admire his handiwork.

Charles watches the display with a kind of pride, even though he hasn’t actually done anything. He feels like he’s somehow facilitated this achievement. Or even if he hasn’t, he’s still picked a good man – a clever, secretly kind man – to keep forever.

He says, “Could you sterilize it yourself, I wonder? At a molecular level? Just how much fine control do you have over the material?”

He can’t believe he’s never thought to ask that before. He’s watched Erik work countless times, and though it’s ordinarily a matter of moving a piece of metal equipment to here from there, it does also occasionally mean completely reshaping things. 

Erik says, “I could just heat the metal. Or we could use soap, which Raven is currently doing. Is it not enough I’ve made the thing?”

Charles says, “Yes, of course, love. It’s wonderful! You know, perhaps you ought to look into an engineering degree. I think you’d be very good at that.”

Erik frowns and says dismissively, “A lazy stereotype.”

Charles rolls his eyes.

“Well if it is, you’ve brought this on yourself. I didn’t make you good with your hands, now did I?”

Erik smirks and thinks, _You certainly give me enough practice._

Raven says, “Incidentally, how did the old pot get so burnt in the first place?”

Charles and Erik make eye contact and, as one, agree never to tell her.

Erik says, “Don’t you have homework?”

“Fine,” Raven says, holding up her wet and soapy hands in surrender. “Fine. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

She really, really doesn’t.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles is very used to getting what he wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> angst and things
> 
> why yes, those are cameos from the brotherhood of mutants

Erik returning to school completely wrecks their domestic schedule, and Charles is not pleased one bit. Really, he brought this on himself by insisting Erik put some thought into the college option, but he hadn’t expected it to complicate their lives quite so much.

Part of the problem is that they can’t really afford for Erik to quit his job completely, so he stays on at the garage part time while also going to school. And that’s bad enough – though plenty of people do it, Charles himself included. But while Charles’s job allows him some leeway (reading or writing essays between customers and in lulls), Erik has no such freedom. He goes to class in the morning, stops by the house long enough to eat, then rushes off to the garage in the evenings. He comes home late, does his readings or problem sets, and then zonks out on the bed without so much as a good night kiss.

This schedule means they can continue to keep themselves fed and clothed (though barely). But it also means they stop seeing as much of one another. It wouldn’t be so bad (and indeed _wasn’t_ so bad) when it was only one of them playing the work-school juggling game, but with both of them doing it, it feels like they go days at a time without seeing each in more than passing. 

Erik, of course, pushes through his hectic schedule with the kind of stolid determination Charles knows he saves for things really worth doing. He doesn’t complain and he doesn’t fall behind. But he does become irritable – more so than usual. And Charles can feel himself doing the same, especially when he realizes just how much he was relying on Erik before to do the cooking and the cleaning and help him keep Raven in line. But it’s not just those things; they used to have at least a few hours a day to spend together just talking and touching and fucking. And now they don’t. No one is getting laid, and no one is happy about it.

In short, the new schedule is something drastically short of ideal.

But they get used to it. Of course they do. The situation is frustrating, but far from dire, and humans can get used to anything, more or less, given enough time. And, after all, adaptation is even more the way of homo superior. Much like how a desert toad adapts to life with little water, Charles adapts to life with less Erik (and, much like the desert toad, he maintains his Erik supply by burrowing into Erik’s thoughts when they’re apart but within mental range).

They do what they can to make it less awful. They have lunch together some days, and they always try to get at least an hour together in the evening before one or both of them absolutely has to sleep. On Saturdays, they often go out together to the park, and on Sundays they force Raven to stay in with them and watch horribly outdated movies that they borrow from the library.

Sometimes they even manage to have sex, and sex is always nice.

XXXXX

Things get a bit easier the next semester, largely because the government sees fit to give Erik more money. Charles doesn’t know how it happens (he certainly doesn’t have anything to do with it, no matter what Raven may imply). Maybe some paperwork finally goes through or maybe Erik actually learned something in his classes and is taking advantage of his knowledge to improve their financial situation. Or maybe someone somewhere has taken pity on them. It’s a proper mystery.

Charles doesn’t know the reason and he doesn’t care, because it means Erik can cut down on his hours at the garage even more. That means more opportunity to get homework done, .less stress from work, and, most importantly, more time to spend together.

They use it wisely (and okay, sometimes not so wisely, but they have fun, anyway).

Then one day Erik doesn’t come home from class at the expected time. Charles and Raven wait for him for twenty minutes before Raven looks at the spaghetti getting cold and says, “Can’t you just call him?”

“He’s out of range,” Charles says at once, because of course he’s tried that already. They just live too far from the campus for telepathic conversation to be an option, though the more Charles practices, the better his range gets.

Raven says, “Oh my God, I meant from a phone! You know, that thing that rings when people want to sell you life insurance?”

“Oh!” Charles says, and smacks himself on the forehead because it’s so obvious now.

So he finds his phone and calls Erik.

It takes six rings for Erik to pick up, and Charles paces impatiently, torn between thinking something terrible has happened and thinking Erik is going to murder him for interrupting something quite obviously important.

Finally, Erik answers with a quiet but curt, “Yeah?”

Charles breathes a sigh of relief, because at least his first worry is now mitigated. The second one, however…

“Sorry, is this a bad time?”

“Yes,” Erik says. “But I’ve already stepped away. What do you need?”

“I was just wondering where you are,” Charles says, a tad sheepishly. It all feels sort of foolish now, his worrying. Erik is clearly just fine and as moody as ever.

“I told you this morning, I have a group project,” Erik says.

“Ah,” Charles says. “Sorry for interrupting, then. I don’t remember that. Was I still sleeping when you told me?”

“You were groping me,” Erik says. “Though I suppose that doesn’t mean you weren’t asleep. It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve unwittingly engaged in somnophilia.”

“Hmm,” Charles says, and lets that one pass. It was a complete accident that first time, and after that they came to the agreement that sex is sex, asleep or awake – and, in fact, being fucked into wakefulness is not an unpleasant experience.

He says, “Do you want me to set aside some of the pasta for when you get home?”

“No,” Erik says. “Someone’s bought pizza to share.”

Charles bites his lip. “I suppose you’ll have to take your turn buying, then?”

“Probably,” Erik agrees. “But we’ll cross that bridge when we have to.”

They wrap up the conversation after that, and Charles hangs up to eat dinner with Raven. He wishes Erik were with them, of course, but he’s used to them being apart by now.

Or… he thinks he’s used to it, anyway. But as the group project stretches on and on (first two meetings per week, then three), he starts to get a bit worn thin. It’s like last semester all over again, only Charles has someone to blame this time besides the universe and the gods of money. He really starts to hate Erik’s project group, and he hates even more that Erik comes home still thinking about them – it’s bad enough they monopolize Erik’s time while he’s with them, but now they’ve started spilling over into the precious time together Erik and Charles still have.

The whole thing starts to make Charles angry (genuinely angry, not whiteboard angry). He knows it’s not really the project group’s fault, and they all probably have boyfriends and girlfriends at home waiting for them, too. But that doesn’t help at all when he’s eating without Erik **again** or going to bed alone.

The week before the project is due, Erik is gone three nights in a row, and when he comes home the third night thinking thoughts about bloody Eileen and Jason and Mort and Regan and Martinique, Charles finally snaps.

He says, “Just stop, can’t you?” and his voice sounds a little hysterical even to his own ears.

Erik very deliberately puts down his toothbrush, rinses his mouth, and turns to face Charles.

“Stop what?”

“Stop thinking about them!”

“About who?” Erik asks, and he’s genuinely baffled, Charles can tell. He doesn’t even realize he’s been doing it, and that’s almost worse, because these people have clearly become an important part of Erik’s life and Charles has never even met them.

“You know who,” Charles insists. “Your bloody project group!”

Erik frowns, and he still thoughts are still confused.

“My project group,” he repeats. “Right.”

Charles throws up his hands in frustration.

“There you go again! Can’t you just stop thinking about them for one damn night?”

“I don’t see why this is a problem,” Erik says, but he sounds defensive like he’s got something to hide. “They’re fine.”

Charles grist his teeth.

“Well, I don’t like them,” Charles says. “They could be dangerous. What do you even know about them?”

“More than I’d like,” Erik admits ruefully, and Charles feels vindicated.

He must accidentally project some of this, because Erik narrows his eyes and says, “You’re jealous.”

Charles feels himself blush to be caught, but he ignores it.

“So what if I am?” he says. “Don’t I have a reason to be? They see more of you than I do, these days.”

“What do you expect?” Erik snaps. “They’re my classmates!”

“And I’m your boyfriend,” Charles reminds him.

Erik scoffs. “Everything’s about you, isn’t it?”

“When it has to be,” Charles says hotly. “When you make it that way. Damn it, Erik, I worry about you!”

“No,” Erik says. “You don’t. You worry about _you_. You worry I’m going to leave you for one of them.”

“No!” Charles says at once. “Of course I don’t!” 

And it’s the truth. That’s never been his worry.

“Look,” Charles says, trying to find the reason in his argument. “I just miss you, alright? I miss your stupid face when you’re gone, though God knows why.”

Erik is not placated.

“What do you expect me to do, Charles?” he says, and he’s angry now, too. “Do you want me to quit the classes that you **forced** me to take?”

Charles takes a step back, feeling like he’s been slapped.

“I didn’t force you to do anything, and you damn well know it. You were so caught up in your stupid insecurities that you dove headfirst into a chance to prove yourself with barely a second thought.”

“ _My_ insecurities?” Erik repeats incredulously. “I’m not the one so insecure he’s throwing a tantrum about a study group.”

“It’s not about that!” Charles insists. “I’m not jealous! You can spend time with whoever you want whenever you want. I just didn’t realize I was so low on your priority list.”

Erik slams his hand down on the counter hard enough that the toothbrush cup tips over and the brushes spill out.

“Damnit, Charles! What do you want me to do?”

He stops, and he takes a deep breath but his hands ball themselves into fists.

After a moment, he says sharply, “I’m serious. What do you want me to do? I don’t have any more time in my day, but if you want me to drop the class or get your name tattooed on my forehead or invent time travel, I will. What do you want me to do?”

Charles says, “My God, I’m not asking for a bloody miracle, am I? All I want is for you to just stop forgetting I’m here! Just stop ignoring me!”

He goes momentarily crazy. He blurts out, “Or just- just fucking marry me already!”

There’s a long moment of shocked silence.

Then Erik says, “Charles… it’s not even legal in this country.”

Charles says, “That’s not a yes,” and his heart sinks. He didn’t even really mean to say it, but now it’s out there and he’ll be damned if he didn’t mean it.

 _Please says yes_ , he thinks, and then he suddenly worries he’s going to accidentally influence Erik’s judgement, trap him (again, apparently) into something he doesn’t really want.

“I won’t press you,” he makes himself says. “I never meant to force you into anything, I swear to you, Erik.” 

Erik coughs and says, “Not everything is about you. If I really wanted something, I would take it.”

“Do you want to get married?” Charles asks, and holds his breath.

Erik says, “Yes, I do. But Charles… it won’t fix anything.”

“No, of course not,” Charles agrees. “But if you miss me like I miss you-”

“I do,” Erik cuts in. “I just don’t have your flair for the dramatics.”

“Oh, that’s a laugh,” Charles says, grinning. “ _You_ don’t have a flair for the dramatics? You hear the damn Imperial March in your head when you walk into crowded rooms, I know you do!”

Erik’s cheeks go slightly red.

He says, “I guess I have to marry you now; you know my deepest secret.”

Charles feels his smile soften. He reaches out to grab Erik’s hand and just holds it for a long moment.

Then he says, “Move over, Vader. I still have to brush my teeth.”

He manages to keep smiling even as he’s brushing his teeth, and Erik’s smiling back a sweeter version of his shark grin. Erik doesn’t even stop smiling when Charles gets toothpaste on his chin, and that’s when Charles knows they’re going to be fine.

They’re both still young, he knows that, and maybe a spur of the moment proposal isn’t the sanest thing in the world for either of them. But he wants this, and Erik wants it, and they’re in love, and why the hell would anyone ever get married besides that, anyway?


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just fluff

Two days after Charles’s ill-advised proposal, Erik skips classes and goes instead to the jewelry store. He would have done it the very next day after, but it was the presentation day for his group project, and he’d be damned if he put that much work into it just to fail at the last moment. Besides, the other members of his group would be lost without him, hopeless idiots that they are.

So he waits another day even though the impatience wears on him.

He gets up in the morning at the usual time, because he doesn’t want Charles to get suspicious. But instead of going to campus, he catches the bus in the opposite direction toward where the high class boutiques are located. He picks the first decently fancy one he sees and goes inside.

The sales ladies don’t think much of him – Erik doesn’t need telepathy to tell that. He understands it, even as he resents them for it. He knows he’s young and gangly and dressed like someone who works with his hands for a living, but they needn’t stare at him like he’s Vivian Ward. 

Erik wants to snap at them that he wouldn’t want to buy their overpriced jewelry, anyway, but he manages to keep a cool head. He browses the men’s section until he has some decent ideas about what he wants (and alright, is feeling slightly tingly from all the metal around him). Then he walks away without buying anything and heads back to the cheaper part of town closer to where they live.

His actual destination for the morning is a pawn shop, where he browses the much more reasonably priced rings. He’s not looking for style here, but for composition. It’s easier for him to work with certain types of metals, and he wants this to be perfect, so the metal needs to be sturdy but malleable. There also needs to be enough of it to split into two separate pieces, or else he needs a set.

He at last finds something that works. Actually, he falls a little bit in love with the metal of a set of cobalt chrome rings. One’s a woman’s ring, but Erik’s going to remake them anyway, so it hardly matters. He takes them up to the man at the counter who tells him they’re $50 each or $80 as a set. It’s more money than Erik is comfortable spending (though nothing even close to the upscale boutique earlier), but Charles is worth it and Erik wants this to be perfect. So he pays for it and thinks they’re just going to have to get creative about meals for the next week.

He goes home to a thankfully empty apartment, chugs a glass of water, and then sits down at the kitchen table with the rings. He calls to mind the style he’d picked at the fancy store, and lets his power flow through him. It takes time and precision, but Erik can be patient. 

By the time Raven bangs into the apartment after school, Erik has two rings he’d be proud to wear. He only hopes Charles will feel the same.

Raven crashes into the kitchen, obviously looking for a snack, but she stops short when she sees him.

“Why are you here?” she asks, slightly accusing.

Then her eyes flick down to the rings, and her mouth falls open.

“Oh my God!” she says. “Are you proposing to my brother?”

“No,” Erik tells her, and decides to leave it at that.

“Uh,” Raven says. “Are you proposing to someone else, then? Because I don’t think Charles would like that. I know you guys are into all that freaky shit, but I really think that might cross a line.”

Erik laughs. Raven is so very candid, and Erik appreciates her for that.

He says, “I don’t need to propose. Your brother’s already done that. I’m just making it official.”

Raven says, “Huh. I didn’t think he had it in him. Or _has_ he had it in him?” 

She waggles her eyebrows in Erik’s direction.

Erik says, “I don’t kiss and tell.”

Raven laughs. “You don’t have to tell me,” she says. “I hear it every night. Sometimes when I stay over at someone’s house, I lie there and wait for the sex noises to lull me to sleep but then remember most people don’t have sex where their kids can hear.”

“And when we have kids, I’ll take that under advisement,” Erik assures her.

Raven grins at him silently.

“What?” Erik asks.

“You said ‘when.’”

“If,” Erik says at once. “I meant ‘if.’”

But it’s too late for that and he knows it.

He says, “Don’t you have homework?”

Raven says, “You’re not my real father.”

“And thank Gott for that,” Erik says.

XXXXX

They don’t have the money to get married right away, but Erik can’t wait any longer to show Charles what he’s made. So that night he digs through Charles’s clothes and finds the only tie he owns (and never wears) to use as a blindfold. The material feels nice in his hand and he thinks idly that he might like to be the one blindfolded instead. But that obviously won’t work for tonight.

He paces impatiently while he waits for Charles to come, and the display or restlessness makes Raven decide tonight would be a good night for a sleepover at a friend’s. Erik thinks that works out nicely for everyone, and he gives her his last fiver for snacks.

When he feels Charles’s key in the door, he practically pounces on him, throwing the door open and dragging Charles inside.

Charles laughs, confused, and allows himself to be manhandled.

“What’s going on?” he asks easily. “Is it your day off?”

“Yes,” Erik says. “And I’ve made plans.”

“Plans?” Charles says. “Should I change?”

Erik says, “Yes. Take off your clothes. And put on this.”

He pulls the tie from his pocket.

Charles’s eyes go wide.

“Is this kinky fiancé sex?” he asks, but he doesn’t seem opposed.

“Yes,” Erik says. “Now hurry.”

Charles gets naked and then turns around so Erik can wrap the tie around his eyes.

Erik keeps his mind focused on the silk and the idea of how it would feel against his face, because while that’s all embarrassing, it means he’s not giving the surprise away with idle thoughts, either.

Charles moans under Erik’s fingers and says, “Erik, why am I the one wearing this? You want-”

“It’s a surprise,” Erik tells him. “Stop peeking.”

When the tie is secure, he pulls Charles into the bedroom and shoves him onto the bed. He admires the view for as long as he can stand, then crawls up onto the bed, too, and kisses him. They kiss for a long time and when he breaks the kiss, Erik calls the rings to his hand.

He slips the ring onto Charles’s finger and thinks clearly, _Surprise_.

Charles freezes, then brings a hand up to push up the blindfold. He glances at Erik then down at the ring, and he _is_ surprised.

“Where did you get this, Erik? My God, it’s beautiful!”

Erik preens, and Charles catches on quickly.

He says, “You made this?”

“You don’t need to sound so surprised,” Erik says. “I do have some skill, you know.”

Charles doesn’t answer, but he does pull Erik into a hot, wet kiss.

And then they have sex. 

But afterward, they lie side by side and lace their fingers together because the look of the rings on their entangled fingers is compelling.

Charles says, “Let’s get married right now.”

“We don’t have the money,” Erik reminds him.

“If that’s what we’re waiting for, it’s going to be a long wait,” Charles warns him.

“I’ll look at the budget,” Erik promises. “We’ll find some wiggle room. Leave it to me.”

XXXXX

It takes four months before they can do it comfortably. The biggest cost is transportation, but neither of them has a car (Erik, in fact, doesn’t even have a driver’s license), so they have to take a bus, and those are always painfully expensive.

Once they’re over the border, it’s fairly easy. They need two form of ID each and $120 for a marriage license. Erik has his birth certificate, his green card and 6 twenties in his pocket. Charles has his driver’s license and the passport his parents had renewed the year before he went to college so they could all go abroad to some fancy resort. Raven has a digital camera she borrowed from a friend and the rest of their money tucked into her bra for safekeeping.

They tie the knot at a tiny city hall in front of Raven, God, and a volunteer witness they’d met in the lobby. Erik will never admit that his eyes start to water when Charles says, “I do.” And then the officiant says, “Do you, Erik Lehnsherr-” and Erik says, “I do.”

They kiss, and Erik thinks abruptly of Molly Bloom’s soliloquy: “his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes” and he doesn’t know if that’s his thought or Charles’s and he decides it doesn’t really matter. 

Then they pull apart and Charles starts to hum the score from the end of A New Hope, and Erik thinks, _This may have been a tactical mistake._

They eat at a corner diner and then pay for a cheap motel with two beds. In the morning, they get up and go see Niagara Falls, because why not if they’re in the area. Raven makes herself scarce and Erik thinks he really couldn’t do better for a sister-in-law. 

He and Charles stand together and look out over the Falls and let themselves be happy. It doesn’t really change anything – not legally, at least. But Erik feels more grounded now, and he hopes it’s the same for Charles. This is a commitment, in a way moving in together never really was. 

It doesn’t change anything, but it changes everything, and that’s just nonsense when you get right down to it.

Charles says, “When this is all legal at home – and it will be, I know it – you’re going to apply for citizenship, right?”

Erik hums thoughtfully. “Oh probably.”

He doesn’t know why he hasn’t done it already except that it seems like such a lot of hassle.

He tells Charles, “Or maybe not. Maybe I’ll just leave you here and go back to Germany where I belong.”

Charles scoffs. “You don’t even remember what Germany looks like!”

Erik looks away quickly because he doesn’t want Charles to see the hit land.

But Charles realizes anyway, of course. Damn telepath.

He squeezes Erik’s hand and say, “Erik… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

“It’s fine.” Erik says.

But Charles says, “No, of course it’s not. I was kidding, but that’s no excuse. And, look, someday when we’re rich professionals we’ll go there and see it, I promise.”

“Yeah,” Erik agrees, and he hopes that’s true.

Then Charles says, “I have an idea. Do you mind if I-”

He wiggles his fingers near his temple.

“You don’t usually ask,” Erik points out, but he lets it happen.

A memory comes slowly upon him as if from deep in his mind, and he recalls with starling clarity a moment in time: standing together with his mother lighting the hanukkiah. He was so young then, so innocent. It was before his parents died, before they’d ever come here, and God, he misses them so much sometimes he can hardly stand it.

The memory fades as slowly as it had come and Erik wipes his face with the back of his hand. He sees Charles brush away a tear, as well, in the same way he’d done earlier when they said their vows.

“I didn’t know I still had that,” Erik says, voice choked. 

“It’s still in you, Erik. You have so many beautiful memories, and they’re all still in you. There’s so much more in you than you know. And I… I look forward to discovering everything.”

Erik stands there and looks out at the Falls, reeling from the old memory and from the day. He wants that, too, more than he’d never known he could. He wants to spend years learning _everything_ about Charles, and he Charles to know him, even more than he knows himself.

He wishes he could think of something to say, but nothing comes to mind, so he just holds Charles’s hand all the tighter and runs his thumb over his wedding band.

At last Charles says, “Well, we’d better go find Raven. We have a bus to catch, after all.”

Erik nods. “Come then, Molly Bloom.”

Charles’s mouth drops open.

“Excuse me!” he says indignantly. “I’m no one’s mountain flower. And anyway, that was your thought, not mine.”

Erik doesn’t quite believe that, but it costs him nothing to agree. 

He lets Charles win this fight.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grocery shopping, nine years apart

**Then:**

“Alright,” Charles said, grabbing a basket. “What do we want to eat this week?”

Erik sighed. That very question was why they had a meal plan. 

“Follow the grocery list,” he said, poking Charles in the ribs with his boniest finger (the middle one on the left hand).

Charles sighed. “Yes, dear.”

Raven trailed behind, ignoring their bickering and laboriously picking out words on her tiny cellphone keyboard. 

Erik frowned at her, thinking how much easier it would be if she just called whatever friend she was talking to – and cheaper, too, if she waited until after 9pm. He wasn’t sure why she ever agreed to come on these trips except that Charles seemed to think it was some sort family bonding activity and Raven was as vulnerable to his charms as Erik was.

He told her, “Don’t get lost.”

Raven scoffed without looking up.

“It’s the supermarket, Erik, not the Poconos. I’m not going to get eaten by a bear or anything.”

Erik frowned harder but it was wasted effort because she still wasn’t looking at him. He turned back to Charles to find he’d wandered ahead into the produce and was examining grapefruits. Erik sighed and hurried to catch up.

“Are grapefruits on the list?” he asked pointedly.

Charles glanced up at him from beneath his eyelashes and said, “Think of it, Erik: freshly squeezed grapefruit juice.”

Erik pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Even apart from that being outside our budget – and not on the list! – I don’t understand why you would want that. Have you ever tasted a grapefruit? They’re sour.”

Charles smiled to himself and put the grapefruit back down.

“I like them sour,” he said, and Erik knew they weren’t talking about fruit anymore.

He cleared his throat and looked away. He said, “We can budget it for it next week, if that’s what you want.”

Charles beamed.

**Now:**

Charles grabs the grocery cart and says, “What do you want to eat this week, darlings?”

Erik sighs and brandishes the grocery list at him.

“We have a meal plan,” he reminds him, but Charles isn’t listening and neither are the children.

Alex says, “The babies are out of juice again,” at the same time Sean says, “Definitely hot pockets.”

Ororo starts to wander away toward the produce section and Erik only just catches her arm in time to keep her with the group.

“We’ll get there,” he tells her when she pouts at him.

To Sean, he says, “Definitely not!” and to Alex: “How could we possibly be out of juice again? There was a full gallon yesterday.”

Sean says, “Aww, come on, they’re so easy to make, though!”

“You don’t even cook,” Erik reminds him, talking over Alex and then having to ask him to repeat himself.

Alex says, “I dunno, it was just gone when I went to get some this morning.”

“Oh,” Charles says, looking up from the list suddenly, “That’s right! I took it to the office yesterday.”

“What?” Erik snaps. “Why?”

Charles shrugs. “The TAs are going to get scurvy, Erik. I can’t let that happen, can I?”

“So tell them to eat an orange,” Erik says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Apple juice doesn’t even prevent scurvy!”

Then he sees the smirk on Charles’s face.

“You’re winding me up,” he realizes.

“Yes, darling,” Charles admits. “The apple juice is in the refrigerator behind the milk. Alex, did you move the milk when you were looking?”

“Oh,” Alex says. “Nah, didn’t think of that.”

Erik sighs.

**Then:**

They moved through the store, going through Erik’s list and occasionally getting into clashes over whether they really needed to get the generic brand, or whether they could afford something better (they really couldn’t, and anyway, Erik just knew they all tasted the same). Raven lagged consistently half an aisle behind them, probably embarrassed by the way they flirted shamelessly between disagreements.

When they got to the check-out, Erik took everything out of Charles’s basket and put it in the counter himself, because he’d learned his lesson about trusting Charles or Raven with that job. They would both add something extra if they got the chance – and it was more to spite Erik than anything else, they all knew it. So Erik unloaded and kept his eyes peeled.

Sure enough, stuffed between a bag of pinto beans and a box of wheat pasta was a half-pound bag of Twizzlers. Erik snatched it up and leveled Charles with an accusing look.

“Don’t look at me,” Charles said, raising his hands in surrender. “I don’t eat licorice.”

Erik switched to glaring at Raven, who smiled innocently at him.

She said, “I should get some kind of consolation prize after having to watch you guys be gross all afternoon.”

Charles said, “That’s fair. Erik, why don’t you let her have them?”

Erik grit his teeth.

“They’re not in the budget,” he reminded them. “In case you can’t remember, we don’t budget because I want to be a terrible person. We budget because that’s how we survive to eat another week. Or have you forgotten how money works again?”

Charles looked slightly stung, and though Erik tried to remain strong in the face of that expression, he knew he couldn’t keep it up.

He sighed.

“Fine,” he said. “But not this ridiculous bag. Go and get something smaller. Under two dollars, Raven, I’m serious.”

She grinned hugely at him. She took the bag back from him and hurried off to the candy section.

Erik shook his head at his own weakness, then turned to the bemused cashier.

Charles stepped up behind him and leaned his face against Erik’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry, love,” he said easily. “Someday we’re going to be rich professionals, and then we can buy the children anything they want.”

Erik only hoped these hypothetical children were less capable than Charles and Raven at using guilt as a weapon. Somehow, he thought it wasn’t likely.

**Now:**

The children have more or less scattered by the time they’re halfway through the grocery list, and Erik knows from experience they’re all eyeing up things that are terrible for them and making plans on how to sneak them into the cart. Unfortunately, he can’t spend the whole trip guarding the cart, because he has both David and Lorna to contend with, and neither of them very much enjoy the crowded store atmosphere.

When they get to the check-out lane, though, Erik hands Lorna off to Charles and puts David on the ground to hold Ororo’s hand. Then he empties the card piece by piece, because he just knows these hooligans have slipped extras in while his back was turned.

As he suspected, he finds: one box of instant cake mix, one box of ham and cheese hot pockets, three bags of Skittles, a two-pound bag of frozen tater tots, a 64 ounce bottle of hazelnut coffee creamer, and one six-ounce jar of marinated artichoke hearts.

Really, it’s the artichoke hearts that make him wonder; everything else has impulse buy written all over it, but who would risk his wrath over _artichoke hearts_?

“No,” he says firmly, and the older children all sigh in unison.

Erik is ready to stick to his guns over this, but then he sees the look on Charles’s face – the one that means he won’t contradict Erik’s parenting in front of the children but by God he’s going to remember Erik being a heartless bastard tonight in bed.

Erik pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Fine,” he says, because he’s so weak. “But only one thing each, so you’d better make it count.”

“Oh hey,” Sean says, perking up. “Thanks!”

“Thanks, Erik,” Alex chimes in, and hitches Scott up on his hip so he can grab his pick out from the cart.

Ororo gives Erik a hug and then David does, too, even though he doesn’t really understand what’s going on. Then Lorna starts babbling and reaching for him, so Erik gives her a hug, as well.

_Thank you, love_ , Charles thinks at him, and he looks so pleased that Erik can hardly be mad.

Erik sighs. Some things never change.


End file.
